Mark of the Beast
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: In an inevitable war, what better weapon than hope? Bart is determined to save Jaime from the Reach's control and to prevent his future from happening.


**In twenty mere seconds of an incredibly attractive angry Dick at the end of the newest episode, I got enough story ideas to make a small army. Brace yourselves, men. This is one relentless battle you may not emerge from with smiles.  
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**They will be OOC, I apologize, but I hurt internally too much to even try. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice or its characters.**

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The auburn hesitantly slid out of his costume, wincing every bit of the way as he did so under the foreign gaze of what he had once called his closest friend on this earth, the pain shooting through his features more mental than anything else. He had failed. All that work, all those months of desperate thinking and conspiring, were now nothing but wasted days ignoring the torturous world that was now beginning to form around him.

"Please…" he walked up to the bars that cut him off from the shell of his friend's body, his voice trembling near as hard as the bruised fists that grasped at the iron, "Jaime… I know you're in there… you… you have to fight it!"

The armor turned itself slowly to face him, using the Hispanic's laugh in a way that furrowed the speedster's face in unimaginable ways.

"Fight it? Now why would I do that, _'ese'?_" the face shield turned back just to tauntingly flaunt the sixteen year old's grin, averting the future boy's eyes painfully. "Because you can't take a few punches?"

Bart's fists turned white, the dark scarring to the flats of the back of his hands standing out like a flamingo amidst the winter storm. It was hard to swallow around the restricting inhibitor collar, but it did him the favor of hiding the bruises that his future collar had given him, something he would never be thankful for. He'd rather have the real Jaime back to help him not notice the scars than for them to be hidden under the gaze of that _monster_.

His chest shuddered on a breath as he kicked off his costume, pulling the spandex exhaustedly from his scarred flesh, chin trembling as the pain started searing up into his eyes. With his gaze averted, he missed the surprised gaze skimming over the displaying pale skin, each and every bruise and scar like a kick to the Hispanic's stomach.

"What are..? Where'd you get all those?" the voice was softer, holding an emotion that wasn't arrogant or cocky for even a second.

The underdressed of the two looked up, following the brown gaze as the armor reversed, the teen stepping closer to the bars that separated them as Bart looked over the seemingly endless scars.

"The future," the redhead murmured, looking desperately into his friend's eyes, "From you."

Jaime's lips parted with a small gasp, his head shaking in desperate denial, setting his tan hands to the bars where his friend's own had rested barely moments ago. Were those tears in his eyes? Bart prayed harder than he ever had that they were. Sadness was his friend breaking through, overthrowing the scarab.

"N… no… I-I wouldn't!" he argued, eyes wide.

This was his chance to fix everything, to save his world and his friend. Using every piece of strength he could, he eased his own tears to his eyes, turning so the Hispanic would notice the bloody bruise to the small of his back. It was about the length from his pinky to his thumb when his hand stretched at his farthest, or the size of the toe of someone Black Beetle's size.

"I got this one three days before I traveled back to the past. I hadn't eaten in a week… slept in two… and you were at my heels, demanding me to carry an amplifier to the pile up ahead. I could barely hold _myself _up, let alone a fifty pound piece of tech… and when I… when I collapsed…" he choked a little, rubbing his neck to hopefully ease the words out, "You… you called me a useless… meat sack… and then kicked me."

The redhead raised his hand, pushing up his bangs just enough that the ebony could see the stitched cut stretching out over his head for a good half-foot. The stitches were still there, the blood drying up along the edges.

"This is where I hit my head on a control box after you kicked me. It knocked me out until my friend hauled my body away. That… that was one of your nicer days, too…"

He turned, raising his bony arms just enough for Jaime to see the awkward formation of his ribs on the left side, a dent clear in the third one down. They were a near aubergine against the milky-tint of his skin, in a perfect shape for a fist's mark. When he was sure he had given it enough spotlight, he turned up his gaze and froze at the pure horror driven amongst the Hispanic's features, his gaze looking in horror to his own hands.

"I… _I_ did that?" he breathed, raising his hands and covering his eyes in denial at the small nod, "No… Bart… Bart I wouldn't…"

The redhead ghosted a smile of relief, slipping the prison suit lightly over the pale of his flesh, leaving it unzipped as a reminder, stepping close and grabbing the bars again, his forehead resting between two.

"I know _you_ wouldn't… the Reach though… they messed with the scarab… you have to fight it…" he looked at the hands and watched as they removed from the brown eyes, lightly setting over his own.

"I can't… I can't fight it," Jaime shook his head, his eyes still burning with tears, "It's too strong…"

Bart looked at the hands, feeling how gentle they are, a single tear skipping his cheek and hitting the concrete floor.

"Yes, you can… Y-you're strong! I believe in you…" he tried to assure his friend, his frown trembling roughly, locking eyes with his friend.

The ebony swallowed hard, opening his lips to argue when a new sort of look crossed his face, like the lighting in the room had suddenly changed. The tears blinked off and the frown turned up into a sadistic grin.

"Bad choice," the scarab used his friend's voice, the hands on his tightening until shudder-inducing cracks cut the air right before a scream of agony echoed about the prison.

"Impulse!" came the cries of the rest of the teammates, the fear hard in their voices as they rushed to the bars of their cage.

The speedster could do more than whimper as he collapsed to the floor, holding his twisted fingers to his chest in horror, looking up at the shell of his friend before the armor flipped back over. The grin was hidden, nothing but the golden eye cover bearing down at him.

"Things haven't changed then… you're still a useless meat sack," the one outside the bars snickered before walking off.

Bart just laid there, his head slowly lolling to the side where another few tears joined that first one. It was starting again. He was too late.

"I'm sorry, Jaime," he breathed out, the throbbing pain of his hands making it hard to concentrate on much else, "I'm so… so… sorry…"

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**Yeah did I mention everything hurts inside? This is just the Bart side! Wait until I get to play with Reach Jaime and big brother Dick! Oh the one-shots, how they line up… **

**-F.J. III**


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